


untitled

by Anonymous



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You have really nice hands,” Chloe says, fingers idly drumming along her cue stick. Beca pointedly ignores her, setting up the shot and the moment her arm cocks back to shoot, Chloe adds, “They look like they know how to show a girl a good time.”or, the AU where Beca walks into Chloe's bar years after they graduated high school
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	untitled

_one._

“Well well well, if it isn’t a long lost Titan in my bar…” 

Beca laughs softly at the words, looking up at the familiar voice and it takes her barely a second to recognise the redhead as she ties her apron in place and rounds the bar. 

“Chloe Beale,” she says as her eyes trail down the woman’s body and despite the turmoil that has driven her to the bar on Christmas Eve, she smiles. 

“Beca Mitchell,” Chloe confirms, drumming her fingers along the counter as she stops in front of Beca. “What are you doing back here?” 

“Right now I’m looking for a drink,” she says and it comes out with a bit of an edge so Chloe just shoots her a wry smile. 

“What can I get you?” 

“Do you have a single malt over 18?” 

“I have a Macallan.” 

“I’ll take a glass of that, neat,” Beca says with a quick smile. 

Chloe turns her back to Beca, crouching down and unlocking a cabinet under the other liquors and Beca’s smile widens when the woman turns back to her with a very familiar bottle. 

“Here’s the thing,” Chloe says as she rests the bottle in front of her. “This is a three hundred dollar bottle.” 

“I’m not going to buy the bottle,” Beca says immediately but again, Chloe just shakes her head and holds up a hand to halt any other words. 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she explains. “If all you’re going to do is have one shot of this, I’d rather give you a red label whiskey soda for free.” 

Beca considers it for a moment, eyes dropping to the bottle. “Make it a double.” 

Chloe doesn’t say anything as she uncorks the bottle and pours a generous amount into a lowball glass she sets in front of Beca. 

“How much do I owe you?” 

“You can pay at the end of the night,” Chloe waves away with a kind smile as she stores away the bottle and when she turns back, Beca can’t help but look at her curiously. 

“Do you need my credit card for the tab?” she asks as she lifts the glass and takes a small sip, her eyes briefly fluttering closed as she enjoys the smooth, oak taste of the liquor. 

“Oh, yes, totally, because it’s so crowded tonight I won’t be able to keep track of what you’re drinking,” Chloe says in a lilting voice, unable to keep the humour out of her words as she tries to keep a straight face and Beca can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up at that as she casts a glance around the room, eyes lingering on the old man slumped in his chair in the corner with a bottle of beer in hand and another man sprawled at the end of the bar, half asleep. 

“I’m sorry for…” Beca says when her face is half turned away still, gesturing vaguely. “I’m just having a rough time.” 

“It’s alright,” Chloe says with a shrug and a soft smile as she fusses with something behind the bar that Beca can’t see. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” she says immediately, more out of instinct than anything. 

“That’s fine too,” Chloe says with a kind smile and Beca considers the option. She’d come to the bar because she needed to get away from her family and the weight of the holidays looming over them and there aren’t a lot of people she can talk to about this, and she’s not going to involve anybody in the mess, so the option of talking to Chloe is looking better and better as every second passes. 

“My grandpa is sick,” she says in a quick rush of words, staring deep into her glass as her fingers swirl over the edge. “And they don’t know if he’s going to make it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says softly and Beca doesn’t need to lift her head to know the pitying look being sent her way. 

Beca shrugs, takes another sip. “So Christmas is pretty much ruined.” 

“It could be worse?” 

“What, he could be dead?” Beca asks and finally meets Chloe’s eyes, sees the sad smile there and something about the surreality of her situation, back in the town she grew up in, sitting at a bar with her middle school crush serving her expensive whiskey while her grandfather is in the hospital, all compounded by the fact that it’s Christmas Eve, finally makes her crack, a laugh bubbling up from her chest and her hand flying up to cover her mouth. 

Chloe doesn’t laugh and if anything, her frown seems to deepen which in turn just makes Beca laugh harder. 

“I’m sorry,” she says between giggles. “I know that’s not funny.” 

And yet she can’t stop laughing about it, her laughs growing louder despite her efforts to curb it and she must have attracted the attention of the man at the other end of the bar because Chloe looks his way and shakes her head dismissively as she remains in front of Beca. 

It’s a long while later when her laughter peters out to soft, breathless chuckles until she stops altogether and there’s only silence as she stares at her glass again, wiping her eyes dry from the tears of laughter because they threaten to fall, and once she starts crying she’s not sure she’ll stop and she absolutely does not feel like crying.

“Sorry. That’s really not funny,” she says softly to herself as she shakes her head. 

“No need for an apology,” Chloe dismisses. “I get it.” 

“The grief?” 

“Yeah.” 

Beca tilts her head slightly as she watches Chloe, the way the woman doesn’t seem to shy away from the sadness or try to cover it up with a distraction, staring right back at Beca with a small, sad smile. 

“Do _you_ want to talk about it?” she asks with a small smile of her own and the corners of Chloe’s mouth twitch upwards. 

“No,” she says teasingly and Beca gives a little laugh. “My grandparents — on my dad’s side — died within a week of each other.” 

“Seriously?” Beca asks, more out of surprise than disbelief. 

“Mhm-hm,” Chloe says with a nod as she tucks her hands into the apron. “I should have known—they always did everything together.” 

“That must have been rough on your family,” she comments softly. 

“Yeah it was hard on my dad,” Chloe tells, her eyes drifting away to stare at a random spot behind Beca, fingers reaching up to absentmindedly tuck some of those red locks behind her ear and Beca closely follows the movement, eyes lingering on the image of a Chloe deep in thought. 

“Were you close?” 

“Very,” Chloe says. “And it sucked losing them both at the same time but now…” She shrugs, shakes her head softly as her eyes find Beca’s again. “It was better this way. Death only hurts for the ones left behind and I’m glad one of them didn’t have to live with that pain.” 

“That’s oddly poetic,” Beca says as her fingernail scratches idly at the paperboard coaster under her drink. “I don’t think I’m there yet.” 

“You don’t need to be,” she says with a shrug, eyes clearing as she sends a firm look Beca’s way. “I’ve had a while.” 

“How long?” 

“As long as you’ve known me.” At Beca’s small frown, she chuckles and elaborates. “The summer after they passed away, we moved here.” 

Understanding flits across Beca’s face only briefly before that frown deepens. 

“That sucks. Your grandparents died and you moved away from home in the same year?” She shakes her head with a small scoff. “I’d have been so pissed.” 

“It wasn’t all bad.” Chloe can’t help her small laugh at Beca’s visceral reaction. “The people here were very welcoming.” 

“As awful as it is, the South at least gets that right,” Beca says with a little smile as she lifts her drink and Chloe reaches for her own glass to clink against Beca’s. 

“And I’m very grateful.” 

Beca smiles at her over the rim of her glass, watching as Chloe takes a small sip of her water before putting the glass away again and turning to go tend to the two other patrons in the otherwise quiet bar. 

Her own glass is empty by the time Chloe comes back, and her chin is propped up by her hand as she stares into the bottom of it, deep in thought but not so far lost that she misses the way Chloe’s gaze flits down her body and back up, and Beca hadn’t made any effort to check that all the buttons of her flannel were done up when she got dressed so either Chloe is staring at her necklace or at the generous view allowed by the way Beca’s shoulders are curled forward slightly, and that piques Beca’s interest. 

“Still in contact with anybody from high school?” she asks curiously, pretending not to have noticed Chloe’s badly concealed ogling. 

“A few, most people moved away,” she says with a shrug. “Are you asking after anybody specific?” 

“Just wondering…” Beca says with a shake of the head. “What ever happened to Beau Buchanan?” 

Chloe’s smile threatens to widen as she keeps her eyes averted and Beca delights in the twitch of the smile. 

“He lives in New Orleans with his husband and their three French bulldogs.” 

“Beau Buchanan is gay?” Beca exclaims as she tries to reconcile that image with her memories of the proverbial big guy on campus, prom _and_ homecoming king, captain of the football team who dated the head cheerleader. Speaking of, “Did you know?” 

“He told me after junior prom,” Chloe admits and Beca’s eyebrows shoot up. “We had an… arrangement.” 

“What kind of arrangement?” she asks, remembering that they’d still dated throughout senior year and the memory makes her lean in with newly found interest while Chloe’s eyes go wandering again. 

“High school isn’t easy for anybody and especially not gay kids in the South,” Chloe says and Beca has to give her that. “So sometimes, it’s easier to pretend to be straight.”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Beca mutters and Chloe’s entire body seems to halt at the words, eyes narrowing as she studies Beca. 

“Do you?” 

“Mhm-hm,” she gives with a nod and a small smile, but she doesn’t elaborate. She taps the rim of her glass, drawing Chloe’s attention to it. 

“Another double?” she asks, keeping her eyes on Beca as she reaches for the bottle behind her without having to look, uncorking it and pouring a healthy amount into the glass when Beca nods. 

“Thank you,” she says softly before taking a sip and Chloe just smiles, doesn’t stow away the bottle of whisky just yet. 

“This is shaping up to be a very interesting night,” Chloe says in a curious tone and Beca smirks when she turns to put the bottle away, taking advantage of the way she bends down to let her eyes linger on the way Chloe’s jeans stretches across her ass. 

Her eyes fly away when Chloe turns back but she can feel her cheeks warming and she hopes that Chloe doesn’t notice that. 

She’s mercifully called away by the man from the table shuffling up to the bar and muttering something under his breath and Chloe shoots her a quick smile before tending to him, a quick exchange of words and then a few bills pressed into Chloe’s hand before he starts walking away, waving over his head when Chloe calls out a cheery, “Merry Christmas Lee! Get home safe!” 

“Did Lee go?” the man at the end of the bar says as soon as the door slams shut, lifting his head from where it had been heavily leaning on his hand and Beca’s surprised he even noticed because she’d suspected him to be asleep. 

“Yes,” Chloe says with a quiet giggle. 

“I’was supposed to go with ‘im,” the man huffs, heavy grunts coming from him as he climbs off the barstool. 

“I don’t think he got very far,” Chloe encourages and his steps pick up speed. 

“I gotta go,” he says, already halfway to the door. “Bye Chlo!” 

“Happy Hanukkah, Toby,” she says and Beca watches as an endeared smile takes over her features. 

“Yeah, yeah!” 

The door shuts loudly behind him and there’s some shouting outside that Chloe pays no mind to even as Beca keeps her eyes on the door. 

“Doesn’t he have to pay?” Beca finally asks after a long silence when she notices the abandoned bottle of beer in the spot Toby has just vacated. 

“I have his card,” Chloe says with a shrug. “And he’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Huh,” is all she has to say, sipping quietly from her drink and watching as Chloe grabs a rag and moves over to where Toby had been and takes the bottle of beer and wipes down the counter. As she walks back, she deposits the still half-full bottle by the sink before rounding the bar to take the glasses from the table Lee had been at. 

Beca watches as Chloe collects all the glasses by the sink and starts rolling up the sleeves of her light blue button-up. She’s mesmerised by the familiar way Chloe’s hands move as she pours out all the remaining alcohol from the glasses and starts washing them, the way the muscles of her forearm flex and relax as she works, hypnotised by the movement of her long, dexterous fingers. 

She’s done disappointingly quickly and Beca tries not to be sad as Chloe wipes her hands dry on a towel nearby, but then Chloe reaches up and lifts the apron up over her head, letting the top half fall over and fold where it’s tied around her waist and Beca’s eyes immediately take in the shirt and the slight strain of the buttons on the fabric over her chest.

She’s completely distracted by the sight and Beca’s only saving grace is that Chloe doesn’t even seem to have noticed her staring, busy drying the glasses and setting them up on a rack. 

Still, she’s staring pretty hard and she’s not quick enough with looking away when Chloe glances up and on her nearly empty glass and Beca startles. 

“Do you want anything else to drink?” Chloe asks with a steadily widening smile as she keeps her eyes firmly on Beca while her hands unhook the two soda guns and twist loose the nozzles and drops them in the soapy water. 

“Do I need to leave?” Beca asks, and she wants to shake her head at herself with how long it’s taken her to realise that Chloe is cleaning up for the night and so she glances at the clock hanging over the door and notes the late hour. “What time do you close?” 

“No, you can hang out,” Chloe says immediately, drawing Beca’s attention back to her and shooting her a sincere smile. “If you want another drink, I’ll start restocking instead of counting the till.” 

Beca ducks her head as her cheeks warm slightly and she ends up looking at Chloe through her lashes. 

“I think I should stop at four.” 

“I’m not letting you drive anyway so you can have more if you’d like,” Chloe points out with a teasing smile and she seems to enjoy the way Beca rolls her eyes. “I’m taking that as a no?” 

“No, I’m good,” Beca says as she looks into the last of the drink in her glass. “How much do I owe you?” 

“Two hundred,” Chloe says, wiping her hands dry again as she moves closer to Beca. 

_“ What? ”_

Chloe doesn’t even look slightly guilty when Beca’s eyes snap to hers and only gives a soft shrug. 

“You charge fifty for a shot?” she asks even as she starts rummaging through her bag for her wallet. 

“Yup.” 

“That’s extortion.” 

“That’s the price for an expensive bottle,” Chloe says with a small smile. 

“Can I buy the bottle?” she asks and Chloe lets out a low whistle. 

“Of course,” she says. “Big plans tonight?” 

Beca just shakes her head as she hands Chloe her credit card who only has to glance at the platinum colour of the American Express card to know what she’s dealing with. 

“Not that I don’t think you aren’t good for it,” she says, holding up the card between two fingers as she grabs the machine. “But I do need to confirm that you’re about to spend seven hundred dollars on a bottle.” 

“What?!” Beca exclaims before she realises how loud she’s being but Chloe just laughs in response. “You said it was a three hundred dollar bottle!” 

“ _We_ get it for three hundred,” Chloe explains, leaning against the bar and still holding onto Beca’s credit card but not charging it just yet. “We don’t _sell_ it for three hundred.” 

“Oh my god,” Beca grumbles. “This really is extortion.” 

“Take it up with the people in charge,” Chloe says as she bites down on her lips to keep from laughing too much and normally it’s something that would only anger Beca more but the sight is too endearing to have that effect. 

“Where _is_ Bill?” 

“In Jacksonville visiting his daughter.” 

“So who’s in charge while they’re gone?” 

“Me,” Chloe says and she doesn’t even try to suppress her cheeky grin anymore. 

Beca glares at her for a long while and Chloe lets her, crossing her arms almost lazily as she leans her hip against the bar. 

“So do you want the bottle, or?” 

“No, thank you,” Beca says, lifting her chin and Chloe chuckles as she finally runs the card, punching in the amount due. 

“Do you want to leave a tip?” 

“I don’t _want_ to,” Beca grumbles as she drums her fingers along the bar top and Chloe just waits her out patiently. “Put twenty-five percent on the tab.” 

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Chloe says without looking at Beca. 

“You don’t deserve it,” she mumbles. 

“That’s definitely true,” Chloe confirms as the machine prints out the receipts and she sets both in front of Beca along with a pen, tapping the copy she needs to keep and asking for a signature. 

“Is this why you ‘let me’ not pay immediately after my first drink?” Beca asks as she takes her copy of the receipt and her card back, stowing both away in her wallet which she then shoves into the bag on the barstool next to hers. 

The way Chloe doesn’t respond is an answer enough and Beca watches with narrowed eyes as Chloe takes the machine and the signed receipt back to the till. 

“You really should have asked how much we charge before ordering,” Chloe chides lightly and Beca has to give her that. 

“Tell me this,” Beca says, ignoring Chloe’s words to avoid having to admit the truth and Chloe hums to let her know she’s listening as she starts writing something down in a logbook. “What’s Chloe Beale doing running a bar on Christmas Eve back home?” 

“Toby and old man Lee need a place to drink, holidays or not and Bill likes seeing his kid, so…” She gives a small shrug and lifts her eyes long enough to see Beca peering at her curiously, chin perched on her palm. “Why do you ask?” 

“Just wondering,” she says. “So you still live here?” 

“Yup.” 

“Never left?” 

“Nope.” 

“Huh.” 

“What?” Chloe asks, pen pausing over paper. 

“Nothing,” Beca says with a shake of the head and Chloe looks like she wants to ask after her motives so Beca shoots her a placid smile. “I’m just curious.” 

Chloe doesn’t look like she quite believes her but she doesn’t press and goes back to the log and Beca lets her, the silence between them stretching but not uncomfortable. 

“Now you tell me,” Chloe says after snapping the book closed and tapping it once with her pen before putting it away. “Where did Miss Most Likely to Succeed end up?” 

“Producing music.” 

“Anything I’d have heard?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Lived up to the name,” Chloe says with an impressed look. 

“I suppose,” Beca gives. 

“In LA?” 

“Yup.” 

“Long way from home,” Chloe comments and Beca nods, shooting her a pointed look and Chloe smiles. “But I’m guessing that’s what you wanted.” 

“I’d go further if I could,” Beca says. 

“You could,” she throws back. 

“Not really.” 

“No?” Chloe asks, her level voice betrayed by her eyebrow arching. “Your lover at home set on staying stateside?” 

Beca barks out a laugh at that and Chloe seems to delight in it, in how she’s managed to get Beca to laugh so freely. 

“Nothing like that,” she says as she shakes her head although her smile stays firmly in place. “I like my job.” 

“So, no lover at home then?” she asks with a teasing grin. 

“No,” Beca says as she lifts the glass to her lips, drinking the last of the alcohol and watching the way Chloe keeps those icy blue eyes firmly on her. 

“Okay good.” 

“Why good?” 

“Because that makes me feel a lot more comfortable about you checking me out.” 

Beca hates how in the small pause in their conversation her eyes have drifted down _again_ , and at Chloe’s words her gaze snaps up, a guilty smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, don’t feel ashamed,” Chloe drawls, plucking the glass in front of Beca and rinsing it. “I’ve been returning the favour.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Don’t what?” 

“Feel ashamed.” 

Chloe quirks an eyebrow at that. 

“You know you’re attractive,” Beca explains. “You always have.” 

“Oh, you know that for a fact?” 

“I find it very hard to believe that the most popular girl in school wouldn’t know that about herself.” 

Chloe gives her a soft shrug and a small smile as she goes back to washing the glass and the nozzles of the soda guns. 

“Knowing I’m attractive and knowing you think I’m attractive are two very different things,” she says a while later. 

“I suppose that’s true.” 

Chloe doesn’t say anything else, just shoots Beca a quick wink as she rounds the bar and starts wiping down each table before placing the chairs upside down on the tabletops. She tosses the rag back onto the bar from across the space with ease, the cloth arching in the air before neatly falling right next to the sink and Beca’s impressed by it even though she knows it’s more habit than anything. 

Chloe grabs a broom from a hidden alcove and starts sweeping the floors and Beca watches for just a short while before saying, “Seriously, do I need to leave?” 

“You can leave if you want to,” Chloe says with a shrug. “But you’re not in the way, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m almost done anyway and it’s nice having company.” 

“Okay,” she says softly, relaxing slightly as she watches Chloe quickly sweep the floors. 

“What are your plans for later?” Chloe asks and Beca frowns softly when she looks at her watch. 

“Later?” 

“After you leave here?” she specifies and understanding flits thought Beca quickly. 

“No plans.” 

Much to her surprise, Chloe returns the broom to its spot and moves to the pool table, racking up the balls in a nice triangle shape for eight-ball. “Are you any good?” she asks as she nudges her head and urges Beca closer, handing her a cue stick as she places the cue ball at its designated breaking spot. 

“I guess we’ll see,” Beca says. “But don’t go easy on me.” 

Beca’s first mistake, the second one being letting Chloe break. Chloe pockets four of her seven stripes before it’s even Beca’s turn, and the only reason she scratches on her turn is because Beca rotates her shoulder to loosen it up and another button on her flannel opens and shows off a mouth-watering amount of cleavage. 

When Chloe finally schools her features and glares at Beca, she doesn’t even hide her smirk or try to button her shirt back up, choosing instead to hip-check Chloe out of the way and bend in front of her to line up her shot, easily sinking it. 

They trade turns like that, growing increasingly more flirty and more physical with each other until Chloe ups the ante with a large margin by running her fingertips along Beca’s neck and down her chest, following the line of her golden necklace and touching the pendant hanging low. 

“This is really pretty.” 

“Thank you,” is all Beca can choke out, too mesmerised by the feeling of cool fingers on her heated skin and Chloe’s bright eyes staring at her so innocently. 

“Your turn,” Chloe says. 

Distracted she may be, but she still manages to pocket the last of her solids and she can now play for the eight ball. 

“Corner left,” Beca announces as she points to the mentioned pocket and Chloe knows she only has a split-second to prevent that shot from happening. 

“You have really nice hands,” she notes softly. Beca pointedly ignores her, setting up the shot and the moment her arm cocks back to shoot, Chloe adds, “They look like they know how to show a girl a good time.” 

The eight ball does not make it into the corner left pocket, instead flying off the pool table and Chloe bends down with a giggle to retrieve it off the floor. 

“You filthy cheater,” Beca says, hanging onto her cue stick with her dark blue eyes sending Chloe an impressive glare. 

“I win,” Chloe says, returning her cue stick to its spot against the wall and she’s barely turned around before Beca invades her space, pushing her back against the wall and leaning in close. 

“No,” Beca says lowly. “You cheated.” 

“No, I didn’t.” Chloe doesn’t shy away from Beca’s threatening stance, lifts her chin in defiance. “That’s not cheating.” 

“No?” Beca snaps her cue stick into place next to Chloe’s and that newly freed hand comes up to press against the wall right beside Beca’s head. “What do you consider cheating, then?” 

It’s an open invitation, Chloe realises, and she’s not stupid nor does she intend to let that challenge go. 

“If I’d done this,” she whispers a second before surging forward and kissing Beca. 

Chloe pulls back after getting a taste, mostly because she doesn’t want to be too presumptuous and too forward but she’s barely leaned away before Beca follows her, lips crashing onto hers and kissing her firmly. 

Chloe gasps with the intensity, hands flying out to touch any part of Beca’s body, fingers curling into the waistband of her jeans and yanking her hips closer and Beca moves in with a gasp, fingers reaching up and tangling in her wavy red locks, keeping her in place as her tongue sweeps in and deepens the kiss. 

She manages to untuck Beca’s flannel and gets her fingers underneath and Beca shudders under her touch, emboldening her to start undoing the buttons as her fingers travel upwards until the fabric hangs loose and Chloe rips away to get an eyeful of the display. 

Beca’s starting to go dizzy with want, especially when Chloe surges forward to kiss her again, hands on the newly exposed skin of her waist urging her backwards until the backs of her legs hit the pool table and firm hands under her thighs easily lift her onto the green felt. 

“Are we really going to do this right here?” Beca gasps between kisses, fingers finally leaving Chloe’s mussed hair to discard her dark blue flannel and start stripping Chloe of her clothing. 

“Yes.” 

Much later, when there are still tiny sparks of light behind her eyelids and she can feel the blood pulsing through her veins, Beca laughs and says, “Yeah, this is definitely cheating to win” and Chloe just shuts her up with another kiss. 

_two._

It’s a quiet December night where Toby is nursing a beer and Lee is slumped over at the very end, held up more by the wall next to him than his own hand and Chloe’s sat at the corner of the bar so that she can easily hop around it in the very rare event another patron should come in. 

She has her books spread out in front of her, a notebook with scribbles by her side but she’s using it more to doodle than write down the outline of her thesis and she reads a sentence for the fifth time, the letters swimming before her eyes as she considers giving up for the night when the door creaks open and she looks up. 

The heavy boots are enough to have her sit up straight before her eyes rake up the woman’s body, smile widening when she immediately recognises her. 

Chloe instantly closes her books and tosses them into her bag and stashes it behind the bar as she rounds the counter. 

“Hi,” Beca says as she approaches and Chloe points to the coat rack by the entrance that Beca had missed on her visit the year prior. 

“Hello,” Chloe says with a wide smile as she watches Beca hang up her coat and move closer, dropping onto the barstool right in front of her. “Back in town again.” 

Beca smiles softly and nods, setting the phone in her hand screen down in front of her at the bar. 

“How’s your grandpa?” Chloe asks and something flickers in Beca’s eyes as she lifts her head, tilting it slightly to the side as she watches Chloe for a few beats. 

“You remembered.” 

“Well, it’s not a night I’m gonna forget that easily,” Chloe flirts and Beca’s smile twitches as she ducks her head to hide it. “What can I get you?” 

“Whiskey soda,” Beca says as she avoids Chloe’s eyes. 

Chloe tries, she really tries, not to smile, not to give any part of herself away but her next breath stutters out with the hint a laugh and Beca’s head whips up and she levels a soft glare at Chloe. 

“Whiskey soda it is,” she confirms as she turns away to pour the drink, sliding it in front of Beca a few moments later. 

“Thank you,” she says softly and Chloe watches closely as she lifts the drink to her lips and sips, trying to hide a wince at the low shelf quality of the whiskey. 

“Good?” Chloe asks, can’t help herself and it’s worth the glare the gets in return. “Beca Mitchell back in town. Two years in a row, must be something special.”

“Something like that,” she says vaguely and her expression doesn’t shift, stays perfectly placid as she stares into her glass and Chloe’s always been good at reading people but even if she weren’t, that stoic quiet that hangs over Beca is enough to have anybody abandon that line of inquiry. 

“I’m just going to assume you’re back for me,” she teases with a wink and the way Beca’s head snaps up, eyes widening ever so slightly, tells her that although it might not be the full story, there is some truth to her words. 

“That’s a bold assumption,” Beca says, eyes peering over the rim of her glass as she tries to hide a smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve and you’re here with me.” 

“Toby and Lee are also here.” 

“More on a physical level than spiritual, if I’m being totally honest,” Chloe throws back with a soft laugh that Beca echoes. 

“If you’d rather be alone, I can always go get a drink somewhere else,” Beca offers, lifting her glass as if getting ready to chug down the mixed drink but Chloe’s hand shoots out and halts her, keeps her arm on the counter and she takes far too long than is acceptable to retract her hand once she confirms Beca’s not leaving. 

“No, you can stay,” she tries casually, voice a little breathless when Beca still lifts the glass but only takes a small sip. “Besides, we’re the only place open right now.” 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” 

“Everybody’s doing wholesome things the night before Christmas,” Chloe says with a shrug. “Or shopping for last-minute gifts.” 

Beca glances at her watch with a curious look. “Who’s out buying presents at ten?” 

“You’d be surprised,” she says. “Plus, the Walmart’s open twenty-four-seven.” 

“Dire options.” 

“Well, we can’t all afford a Ralph Lauren watch.” 

Beca uses her elbows on the counter to straighten her back and turns that curious look onto Chloe. “Nice catch.” 

She just shrugs before tucking her hands into the pockets of her apron, leaning back against the cabinet opposite Beca. She doesn’t explain how she knows exactly what brand of wristwatch Beca’s wearing and Beca doesn’t ask for more so she doesn’t volunteer the information. 

“How come you’re working Christmas?” Beca asks, taking them down an entirely different path than Chloe had anticipated. 

“It’s Christmas Eve.” 

“You’re also working tomorrow though, aren’t you?” 

“How do you know that?” 

“You’re not the only one who remembers last year,” Beca says vaguely but at Chloe’s pressing look, she relents. “You implied last year that you’d be open on Christmas because Toby would be back.” 

“Good catch.” 

“Thank you,” Beca says. “So I was wondering.” 

“My parents are visiting my older brother and his new baby,” Chloe says casually and even though she can see it springs countless other questions in Beca, she doesn’t add to it. “So here I am.” 

“Working in a bar on Christmas.” 

“Exactly.” 

“You wouldn’t have wanted to go see your brother and his new baby?” 

“I want a lot of things,” she says, voice dropping low as she shifts her legs, eyes never straying from Beca’s. 

Beca opens her mouth to say something just as the phone rings and Chloe mourns the lost moment as she throws a quick smile Beca’s way before picking up the phone. 

It’s not until much, much later, when Beca’s glass is empty and both Toby and Lee have shuffled out of the establishment, that Chloe returns to her spot opposite Beca, already pouring her a new drink before she has a chance to ask for a refill. 

“You never dreamt of leaving?” Beca says as she watches Chloe move around the bar with the familiarity of having done it for years. 

“Who says I don’t?” Chloe asks as she shoots Beca an accusing look over her shoulder. 

Beca holds up her hands innocently, shakes her head. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just wondering.” 

“Why I stick around?” 

“It’s definitely not what I expected to become of you,” Beca says with a shrug, trying for a soft tone so as to not sound too accusing and thankfully, Chloe doesn’t take it that way. 

“Not everybody aches to run away from home, Beca.” 

“Yeah, that’s the part where you lose me.” 

“Sometimes,” she starts slowly, and with meaning. “People like where they are.” 

“Even if it means being stuck in one place?” 

“How long have you been out in California?” Chloe asks pointedly. 

“Six years,” Beca says. 

“So how are you any less stuck than me?” Beca doesn’t have an answer to that, and Chloe smiles triumphantly. “And anyway, like I said, I like it here.” 

“That’s weird.” 

“I’ve definitely been called worse things,” Chloe throws back with a wink before rounding the bar to start collecting glasses. 

Beca doesn’t turn to watch her and Chloe uses the opportunity to really check out the brunette, the curve of her spine and the way the brown locks she knows to be silky smooth cascade down her back. 

Once the tables are cleared and the glasses dropped by the sink, she looks for the rag she’d had before and notices it’s behind the bar, right in front of Beca and she could go around to grab it but she’d like to see if Beca had returned to her this year in anticipation and hope of specific activities. 

“Hey, sorry,” she says quickly and without an ounce of remorse moments before she brushes the length of her body up behind Beca’s, hand falling to her hip to keep her in place as the other arm stretches out and reaches for the rag behind the bar. 

She enjoys the way Beca leans back to press more of her body into Chloe’s, and the way she tilts her head ever so slightly with a smile is so enticing that it takes almost all of Chloe’s willpower not to drag her lips along the skin of her neck. 

“Thanks,” she whispers into Beca’s ear instead, voice low and raspy and she can feel Beca shiver against her before she pulls away again, hand dragging along Beca’s spine until only her fingertips linger and then there really is no reason for her to be touching anymore so she fully retracts her hand and turns away to start wiping down the tables and hears Beca’s ragged intake of breath. 

“You could’ve asked me to hand it to you,” Beca comments a little later and Chloe glances over her shoulder with a small grin. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” she throws back and Beca shifts on the stool so her back is to the bar, elbows perched on the counter behind her as she lazily watches Chloe move around the space. 

The silence between them is loaded and Chloe can feel Beca’s eyes on her as she quickly tidies up and sweeps the floors before returning to the bar. A quick glance Beca’s way and down to her glass elicits a soft shake of the head, and Beca digs in her bag for her wallet before sliding her card over to pay and Chloe tries not to smile as she punches in the numbers, much lower than the previous year’s amount. 

“Any tip?” 

Beca’s lips twitch and Chloe tries not to be too affected by the playfulness in her eyes. 

“I have cash for that.” 

“How gracious,” she murmurs and charges the card. 

Beca signs the receipt with a quick flick before tucking her copy and card back into her wallet and watching as Chloe quickly counts the till. 

“Is it a habit of yours?” Beca asks, fingertip drawing a random pattern onto the polished wood of the bar top. 

“What?” 

“Letting people stay after closing?” 

“Consider yourself special, Beca Mitchell,” she says with a quick wink and revels in the smile it produces. “And something tells me you want a rematch of last year.” 

“What gave me away?”

“The constant glancing over your shoulder at the pool table.” Chloe glances at her with a coy smile. “But the answer is no.” 

“You won’t grant me the opportunity to right a wrong?” 

“Nope, you want it too much,” Chloe says and she laughs softly when Beca’s eyes narrow. “I’m afraid it’ll spur you to use extraordinary measures.” 

“Oh, like cheating?”

“Yes.” 

“Like you did last year?” 

“I never cheated,” Chloe says with a shake of the head and a plain smile, not in the least ruffled by Beca’s accusation. 

“We both know that’s not true.” 

“It’s not my fault you don’t know flirting when you see it.” 

“Is that what was happening?” Beca asks. 

“It’s happening right now and you still can’t see it,” Chloe says with a grin. “Proving my point for me.” 

Beca’s mouth audibly snaps shut as she keeps her eyes on Chloe, lips twisting up in a badly concealed amusement. 

“This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it?” Beca asks and the smile Chloe throws her way is predatory and full of promise. 

_six._

“Should I be insulted that you haven’t come to see me this year?” 

Beca’s already smiling as she turns to face Chloe but she has to work hard to keep that smile kind as she trails her gaze down Chloe’s body to take in the dark blue dress she’s wearing. She’s sure that on the hangar the dress might have looked perfectly modest but on Chloe’s body it looks criminal, clinging to every curve and Beca’s briefly, irrationally jealous that the fabric gets to brush up against all her favourite spots on Chloe’s body. 

“You look nice,” is what she manages to say as she lifts her head to notice how Chloe towers over her more than usual, and her gaze briefly flickers down to take in the high heels, a stark departure from the sensible shoes she’s worn for the past five Christmases Beca’s returned to their hometown, and the added height difference is a thrill.

“Thank you,” Chloe says with a pleased little smile and a preen. “So do you.” 

“Thanks,” Beca says as her eyes lift to meet Chloe’s bright blue eyes, sparkling with a sort of hidden amusement.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks, gesturing around them and Beca holds up her room keycard. 

“I’m staying here. I should be asking what _you’re_ doing here,” she throws back with a quirk of the lips, and doesn’t add the “looking like that” but it’s implied. 

“You’re staying at a hotel?” Chloe asks, opting to change the topic because explaining to Beca that she’d been on a date, specifically with someone who values her enough to have actually asked her out to dinner, is the last thing she wants to do. 

“Yeah.” 

“You don’t stay with family?” 

“Hell no,” Beca scoffs and she’d expected her words to abate some of Chloe’s confusion but her frown seems to deepen as her fingers fiddle with the clasp on her small bag. “You couldn’t pay me to stay with my dad instead of this nice, quiet, stepmother-free hotel.” 

Chloe’s smile twitches as she tilts her head to consider the words. 

“So…” Beca says, sinking her hands into her trouser pockets to avoid doing something stupid like touching Chloe. “Night off from the job?” 

“Yup.” 

“With a salary like yours, I’m surprised to see you here,” Beca says. “What brings you to the Regis?” 

“Dinner,” Chloe says and doesn’t add anything to it, just gestures vaguely to the restaurant behind her. 

She keeps eye contact with Beca, a sort of half-smile taking over her features as she almost dares Beca to ask for more information. 

“Just, for fun?” she asks, taking the bait. 

“Sure, let’s say that.” 

If she weren’t so curious about what Chloe’s actually doing there, Beca would enjoy her playful, coy attitude more. 

“ _Should_ I be insulted?” Chloe asks, swaying closer to Beca and dropping her voice low as she whispers the words practically into her ear. 

“That I haven’t come to see you?” Beca asks even though she doesn’t need to. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“No,” she says. “You shouldn’t be insulted.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Beca twists into her, tilts her head up so her cheek barely brushes against Chloe’s and her mouth is close to her ear. “I thought our tradition was Christmas Eve?” 

Chloe gasps softly, her surprise exaggerated to take advantage of their proximity and Beca pulls away enough to see her face and quirk an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“You’re saying I’m not your first stop when you get to Atlanta?” 

Her fingers flutter against her chest, drawing Beca’s eyes there and she almost gets lost in the delectable view, fingers curling into fists in her pockets as she fights the urge to haul Chloe closer to her and kiss her in plain view of everybody in the lobby. 

“You’re my favourite stop, if that makes up for it?” she finally says. 

“Hmm, jury’s still out,” Chloe says with a light shrug as she steps away. 

“What if I make it up to you?” 

“How?” 

“Let me buy you dessert,” Beca offers. 

“I’ve already had dessert with my dinner,” she throws back with a twitch of the lips. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Beca Mitchell.” 

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” she starts, shifting from one leg to the other as she briefly glances at the hallway where she knows the bank of elevators are. “But I know another way.” 

“That _is_ presumptuous.” 

“You haven’t said no.” 

“I haven’t,” Chloe says and Beca tries not to let her delight show too much. “But I don’t know if I’m that type of girl.” 

“What type of girl is that?” she asks. 

“The type of girl who has dinner with one person and then goes home with another on the same night.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that…” Beca gives with a shrug, even as her eyes stay firmly on Chloe. “If it was just a fun, innocent dinner.” 

“Who said it was innocent?” 

The flash of jealousy she feels is entirely unfounded and she keeps the smile on her face as she says, “Chloe?” 

“Hm?” 

“Were you on a date?” 

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” she says but the twinkle in her eyes and the pull of her smile give her away and despite knowing she has zero claim on the woman, Beca still feels a flash of irrational envy. 

Chloe’s smile widens like she knows, and enjoys, the effect of her words and it takes Beca double the effort to keep her voice level and light as she says, “Well, I’m going upstairs.” 

Her hand finally appears from her pocket, holding her room keycard between her index and middle finger and drawing Chloe’s attention to it. 

“And?” Chloe asks, adjusting the coat draped over her forearm. 

“Would you like to join me?” she says as she steps away to keep some perspective. “For a… tour.” 

“I’m not interested in seeing the room,” Chloe says as she sweeps some hair over her shoulder and squares her shoulders back and Beca’s eyes drift to all the gorgeous skin on display. “If that’s the tour you’re offering.” 

“I’m not,” she says with a flash of a smirk.

“Good,” Chloe says as she snatches the keycard out of Beca’s grasp and walks past her, only glancing over her shoulder to make sure Beca is following her. 

Beca smiles as she trails behind her, taking advantage of the view before they ride the elevator up to her room. Later that night, with Chloe arched under her and moaning her name and with nails digging into her back, Beca kisses her firmly and asks her again, and doesn’t let her climax until she gets the correct answer and after finally admitting that she was on a date, Chloe flips them and pins Beca down with those strong, amazing thighs, smiling dangerously when Beca says, “Am I not so much better than whatever loser you left downstairs?” 

_six, continued._

“We’re closed,” Chloe calls out when she hears the door open, lifting her head a second later and pausing with her hands still in the soapy sink water. 

“Then you should really lock the door,” Beca says as she closes it behind her, leaning back against the heavy wood with a small smile. 

She must take Chloe’s silence as encouragement, her shoes heavy on the bar’s wooden floor as she moves forward and shrugs out of her coat, hanging it on the coat rack before settling on the barstool right in front of Chloe. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” she says, trying not to lose herself in the coy, half-smile Beca throws her way. “Drink?” 

Beca shakes her head. “I don’t want to keep you.” 

“Then why are you here?” she asks with a smile.

“I just wanted to see you.” 

“You saw me yesterday,” she throws back as she keeps her attention on the row of glasses she still has to wash up, and if her words carry a little bite it’s only because she’s been trying to hide how sad she’d been since seeing Beca. 

Beca just hums and doesn’t pick apart her cool tone, watching silently as Chloe goes through the motions. 

“You don’t have a dishwasher here?” Beca asks after watching her for a while. 

“We do, but this is quicker and I won’t have to wait for the dishwasher to be done,” Chloe explains with a small smile and Beca nods and they fall into another quiet lull. 

Beca fidgets in her seat and Chloe makes a conscious effort not to look up at the woman because she knows she’s being watched closely and even in her peripheral vision she can see Beca’s soft frown. 

“Why aren’t you married?” she finally asks. 

“What?” Chloe says with a sharp, incredulous laugh, looking up to try and understand where that question has come from. 

“I don’t know, I’m trying to make conversation!” Beca says as she throws up her hands, shrugs helplessly. 

“And that’s what you went with?” 

“I don’t know what else to talk about.” She shakes her head, gives another awkward shrug. “You went on a date yesterday, so I just—I don’t know.” 

“What makes you think I should be married?” Chloe asks, propping her hands on the edge of the sink as she pauses to really watch Beca try to respond to that. She wants an explanation behind that line of thought, behind the words from the day before that had left her feeling empty and cheap, the opposite of what she’d been trying to achieve by going on her date in the first place. Feeling wanted had never been quite an issue before they started this thing but as the years have gone on and Chloe’s excitement at having Beca back in town has been increasingly overshadowed by self-loathing for allowing herself to be treated like just a fun holiday excursion. 

“I don’t know…” Her gaze flits away, a hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Never mind.” 

“Just tell me.” 

“It’s just—isn’t that like, I don’t know, the standard template? Stick around town, marry the high school sweetheart, three kids by thirty?” 

Chloe watches her in silence, her face perfectly placid as Beca speaks and it’s not until she’s done that she notices something in Chloe’s eyes flicker darkly. 

She’s not sure what it is about Chloe that makes her feel like she never quite has both feet firmly on the ground, and the mounting silence makes her fidget and continue talking instead of keeping her mouth shut as she should. 

“So I was wondering why you weren’t.” 

“Living the cliché?” Chloe parrots back slowly, wiping her hands on the towel tucked into her apron. 

“Married with kids.” 

Chloe scoffs then, shakes her head. “Screw you, Beca.” 

“What?” 

Genuinely surprised by Chloe’s words, she watches with a frown as Chloe efficiently wipes her hands on the towel tucked into her apron, rounds the bar and walks over to the door. 

“We’re closed,” Chloe says plainly, hand on the doorknob and staring at Beca expectedly. 

“You’re kicking me out?” 

“Yes, because we’re closed. I have to count the register and you can’t be here for that.” 

“I have been before,” Beca fights immediately although she knows that’s not what she should be protesting. “Chloe—” 

“Let’s just say I’m better at my job now and leave it at that.” 

“No,” Beca says, refusing to budge from her seat and crossing her arms. “I don’t know why you’re pissed at me and I’d like to know.” 

“Fine,” Chloe says with a tired sigh. “I’ll tell you,” she starts slowly. “You blow into town once a year with your expensive watch and your fancy taste for liquor and you act like everybody still here is beneath you, including me, and you think that doesn’t get old?” 

“I don’t think you’re beneath me,” Beca responds immediately, frown deepening when Chloe scoffs immediately. 

“Yes, you do,” she says and Beca hates the sad line undercutting her words. “You think you’re better than everyone here because you ran off to LA and transformed yourself into some big shot who makes more money than a person will ever need and you think that because I work in a bar and because I still live here, that I haven’t done anything with my life.” 

Beca stares at her with her lips parted, a few beats of silence as she processes Chloe’s words and Chloe can see the fight well up inside her and she’s almost grateful for it.

“I don’t think that at all, but it does sound like you’re projecting real hard here,” she finally defends, trying to keep her voice calm and failing spectacularly. 

“Please, with your constant quips about this place?” Chloe says, shaking her head. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“And why should I?” Beca throws back. 

It takes a lot of effort for her not to cry at that because it sucks, it absolutely _sucks_ that the girl she likes so much thinks she’s only good enough for an annual, twisted type of conjugal visit and Chloe has really tried every trick in the book to get rid of her feelings for Beca, feelings she’s had for a stupidly long time that she’d hoped would lessen with every demeaning and belittling thing Beca had said in the five years she’s been coming back and sleeping with Chloe on Christmas Eve.

Instead of crying over it, Chloe twists her hurt into anger and wields it like a weapon and says, “Because you clearly don’t think you’re too good to come home every year for a decent fuck.” 

“I come home every year to see my grandfather and you’re an added bonus,” Beca says. “As if you don’t look forward to the excitement every year.” 

“You really do think you’re the only exciting thing to happen to me, don’t you?” Chloe throws back. “You know, even if I _were_ just a girl who works in a bar and never left town, it doesn’t mean you deserve to treat me like shit.” 

“ _Even if you were_? What does that mean?” Beca presses, never looking away from Chloe as she tries to process the wealth of new information being thrown her way. 

“Figure it out,” Chloe says, her eyes finally meeting Beca’s in challenge because opening herself up like this is much more than she ever would have wanted from this confrontation and she’s already starting to regret it. “We’re closed, please leave.” 

As if to further illustrate how much they’ve grown in separate directions in the years since first reconnecting, Beca doesn’t fight her on the words, just shakes her head and gathers her things, grabbing her coat as she goes and not even taking a moment to put it on. 

“Merry Christmas,” she mutters under her breath and Chloe doesn’t breathe until the door slams behind her. 

_nine._

Beca stares at the figure leaning against the high glass railings, not quite believing her eyes and even less so the odds of them both being here and her mouth gets away from her, voice low but crisp in the winter air. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t a long lost Titan…” 

The woman startles at the sound of a voice, had clearly expected to be alone and there’s a small, curious frown on her face as she turns away from the view of a snow-blanketed Central Park but when her eyes fall on Beca the expression softens, something in her eyes shifting as her shoulders square back. 

Considering she’d had a moment to herself before speaking, Beca doesn’t expect to be so floored by the sight of Chloe, three years and hundreds of miles away from where they’d last seen each other. 

“Hi,” Chloe says with a small smile because as badly and abruptly as things had ended between them, she is still happy to see Beca. 

“Hi.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

Beca gestures vaguely to the party raging behind her, shrugs softly. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Chloe admits. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” she says with an attempt at a teasing tone that falls entirely too flat to be disaffected. 

“No, that’s…” Something on her face must give her away because Chloe’s expression softens, a small smile taking over her features. With a nudge of the head she urges Beca closer. “I’m happy to see you.” 

Beca manages a small smile at that, moving to stand beside Chloe by the railing and tucking her hands into her coat pockets. 

“I don’t say this a lot but,” Beca starts, throwing a quick glance Chloe’s way before looking away again. “You were right.” 

“About what?” Chloe asks as she tries to wrack her brain for anything she might’ve missed and coming up woefully short. 

She takes a deep breath and holds it, as if steeling herself. “You were the only reason I kept going back home after that first year.” 

Chloe’s next exhale comes out a little sharply, surprised by Beca’s confession. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she admits with a sad smile and a soft shrug. “For what it’s worth, I never thought you were beneath me, I’m sorry I let you think that.” 

“It’s alright,” Chloe says with a shrug of her own because the years have certainly mellowed out any lingering resentment she might have harboured and she can’t find it in herself to dredge up that emotion after Beca just told her she’d been going home for years just to see her. 

“I actually—” Beca shuts her mouth with a definitive click, biting down on her lips as she twists away, back to the view and Chloe’s suddenly intrigued by the odd way Beca seems to be steadfastly staring out and avoiding her eyes, especially after cutting herself off so abruptly. 

“What?” 

“I know it might seem like I always talked about my life to make it look like I was better than you but I just…” Beca says slowly, her hand briefly appearing to tuck hair behind her ear in what Chloe knows is a nervous habit. “I wanted to impress you.” 

“What?” she barks out with a sharp laugh because Beca Mitchell had been trying to impress _her?_ “Why?” 

“Are you serious?” Beca asks, levelling a frown at her while her eyes flicker between Chloe’s to see if she’s kidding or not and Chloe’s genuinely surprised by the words. “Because you’re… you.” 

Chloe’s not sure what to do with that and her blatant confusion must be visible on her face because Beca softens slightly, her hand disappearing into her pocket again as her shoulders curl forward slightly. 

“I’ve always thought you were out of my league,” Beca finally admits as she turns away again and Chloe feels her whole world come crashing to a halt. 

“Huh,” she says dumbly, words failing her as her mind rushes with the new information. Beca doesn’t say anything in response and so Chloe also turns to stare out at the view while Beca’s confession rolls around in her head. “Since when?” 

“What?” 

“Since when have you thought that?” Chloe asks, turning to look at her and Beca’s cheeks bloom pink and it holds Chloe’s attention. 

“Junior high,” she says quietly. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Beca says with a hollow laugh. “Sad, right?” 

“No,” Chloe says immediately. “Not at all. It’s just—I had a crush on you in high school.” 

“You’re just saying that,” she says sharply as she turns to look at Chloe with a frown. 

“I promise I’m not,” Chloe says and her smile steadily widens as she fully grasps the reality of their situation. “Tell me about your crush and I’ll tell you about mine.” 

Beca’s cheeks darken even more and Chloe can’t look away. 

“You were new and exotic,” Beca starts to explain. “Our graduating class all grew up together, we went to the same school since kindergarten. And then you show up out of nowhere the first day of middle school with your Pacific Northwest accent and your cute sandals and your iPod and your parents who let you do whatever you wanted and we all thought you were so cool.” 

Chloe remembers that first day vividly but not for the same reasons Beca apparently has. She recalls being so incredibly scared about going to a new school in a new town where everybody already knew each other and she knew nobody, and not only was she from out of town, she was from across the country and her cousins had preemptively freaked her out about moving to “the South” as if she’d had a choice in the matter. 

She’d been so scared of being the new kid that she hadn’t ever stopped to consider that to everybody else she was the new, _exotic_ kid. 

“And then on top of everything else, you were just so nice,” Beca continues, a fond little smile taking over her features as she basks in the nostalgia. “You were so pretty and super smart and always kind and everybody liked you and I was so…” 

She chuckles then, and Chloe marvels at the sight of her cheeks flushing even darker. 

“Gay.” 

Chloe can’t help the laugh that bursts from her chest, knowing that feeling all too well. 

“Sophomore year,” Chloe finally says in response and Beca doesn’t look her in the eyes but she does turn her head to show she’s interested in the story. “When we were paired up for that bio project.” 

“Really?” Beca asks, finally meeting her eyes. 

“Why is that so surprising?” 

Beca just shrugs and doesn’t elaborate but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she thinks so lowly of her past self and it’s one of the things Chloe had mourned the most when she’d realised how much Beca had intentionally changed about herself after she’d left for LA.

“You were so singularly focused on making it through and getting out of high school.” 

“I was a monster,” Beca whispers with a hint of shame colouring her tone, her rebellious phase, all-black wardrobe and disdain for authority a blast from the past she’d rather leave behind. 

“No, you weren’t,” Chloe says with a small smile as she thinks back to the teenage version of the woman. “You didn’t have time for anything or anyone that wasn’t in your plan for the future. It was admirable and I was crazy intimidated, but you were also so adorable and I was crushing on you the whole time. Plus, I liked the whole alternative rebel without a cause look.” 

Beca stares at her for a long while, her lips slightly parted and her brow furrowed and Chloe has to laugh softly at the picture of bewilderment she makes. 

She just smiles wryly and nods to appease whatever doubts Beca may be having and the woman finally turns away and closes her mouth, even if her frown remains. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called adorable before,” Beca muses, clearly still processing the confession. 

“That’s a shame.” 

Their gazes lock and Chloe’s smile eases at the intense look being levelled at her, as if Beca still can’t actually believe the words and Chloe understands how she feels, still can’t believe they’re in the same place all these years later and talking so openly about the past and their feelings. 

“I was halfway in love with you,” Chloe says softly, the easy smile dropping away as she glances around the night sky. 

“In high school?” 

“No.” 

“And now?” 

“Does it matter?” Chloe asks, the words carrying more meaning than any look she could’ve sent her way and Beca feels the air violently leave her lungs as an odd disappointment settles in her, and the clear way Chloe means to say that it’s all in the past is not lost on her. 

“I suppose not,” she says but because she’s steadfastly not looking at Chloe to prevent herself from making this more difficult, she misses the way Chloe’s bright expression falls, how she has to swallow thickly to try and lessen the tight feeling in her throat at Beca’s dismissive answer. 

Chloe lets out a sort of half laugh, half sigh and it draws Beca’s attention to her, finding Chloe’s light blue eyes already on her. 

“Merry Christmas, Beca.” 

Something on her face must give her away because Chloe shoots her a wry smile before ducking away, back into the warm comfort of the party and Beca just watches her go, confused by the sudden panic that wells up in her chest, the tightness gripping the breath in her lungs that only gets worse when Chloe disappears into the crowd of people. 

_nine, continued._

When Chloe opens her front door, she’s surprised to find Beca there, her coat halfway unzipped but the scarf still wound tightly around her neck and both her coat and knitted cap are covered in a healthy dusting of snow and Chloe’s eyes widen when she realises Beca must have walked there from the party. 

The more pressing matter, however, is that Beca’s at her front door, which means that not only did she somehow figure out Chloe’s address but that she also managed to make it past the doorman without Chloe’s knowledge. 

“Beca,” she says softly, trying to mask her concern. “What are you doing here?” 

“I realised I didn’t tell…” Beca shakes her head, trying to clear her mind and flurries of snow drop to the ground. “No, I… I kept going back for you.” 

“You said that already,” she points out albeit not unkindly. 

“Yeah but I never… I didn’t—” Beca takes a deep breath then, pausing to clearly rearrange the words in her head. “My grandfather died.” 

“What? When?” 

“On New Year’s Eve that first year,” Beca says, eyes so earnest and Chloe feels a weight settle on her chest at the words, at the implication behind them. 

“I’m so sorry, Beca.” 

“I don’t know why I never told you, I just… I enjoyed spending time with you without that sadness looming over or whatever.” 

“All those times that I asked about him?” she asks carefully, afraid to inflict more sadness on the woman in front of her. 

“I went to leave flowers.” 

Chloe’s not sure why but a soft laugh bubbles up from her chest, but it seems to be the right reaction because Beca takes a deep breath and a flicker of a smile crosses her face. 

Beca leans against the doorway as some of the fervour that had clearly driven her to Chloe’s door seems to die down, her shoulders sagging as more snow drops to Chloe’s hallway. 

“How did you get my address?” she asks, breaking the silence stretching between them, eyes focused on the flurries that fall to the ground and melt upon impact. 

“Oh, Aubrey gave it to me,” Beca says with a vague wave of the hand. “Since when do you live in New York?” 

“A few years now,” Chloe answers quickly to get the question out of the way. “How do you know Aubrey?” 

“She’s married to Cynthia Rose.”

“How do you know _her_?” 

“We were roommates in LA,” Beca says. “How do _you_ know Aubrey?” 

“We went to college together in Atlanta,” she replies with a soft laugh at the coincidence that had brought them back to each other but Beca still looks serious, those eyes still intently scrutinising her and Chloe suddenly becomes incredibly self conscious about how she looks. 

She’d changed out of her dress as soon as she’d gotten home, opting for leggings and her softest, biggest sweater that keeps falling off her shoulder and she’d put her hair up in a messy bun, yet Beca, despite being covered in snow and wearing layers, still looks amazing, even after she roughly tugs off her knit cap and runs a hand through her long, messy from being outside hair. 

“It matters,” Beca says out of the blue and Chloe’s confusion at her presence makes a return. 

“What matters?” 

“If you still have feelings. Of course it matters.” 

“Oh,” Chloe says as she finally registers the weight of Beca’s words. 

“Earlier, you said—you asked if it matters, I thought you meant that—but I’ve had like three miles to think about it and I—you were asking if—whether it mattered and I thought you were saying that you didn’t anymore so—and I—so I said—” 

“Beca!” she says sharply, trying to snap the woman out of her rambling as she fully registers the misunderstanding that had left her heart in tatters all over again, in a way she hadn’t thought she’d still feel three years after it was originally shattered. “Breathe.” 

“I thought…” she starts slowly after a deep breath and Chloe shoots her the most encouraging smile she can. “When you asked whether it mattered, that you meant you didn’t have feelings anymore. So I said no because I didn’t want to look like… like the pathetic loser who was still pining after the girl from high school with the bright eyes and the lifelong ambition of becoming a vet.” 

Chloe just stares at her in silence while warmth fills her chest, hope blooming as Beca stares at her with a nervous look. 

“I asked if it mattered because I didn’t want to put you in another awkward situation if it turned out I was the only one with feelings,” Chloe admits softly, carefully, fingers reaching up to tuck the few stray hairs behind her ear. 

“You’re not,” Beca says. “All I ever wanted was for you to like me.” 

“You kept coming to me,” Chloe says in the same hushed tone Beca had used, tears welling up in her eyes even as her hopeful smile grows. 

Beca laughs nervously as she looks away, to the ground, to the bit of apartment she can see through the open door, and then back to Chloe, giving her a small nod. “Thought I’d do it one more time.” 

“I don’t have any alcohol.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Would you like to come in?” she asks softly, smile growing so wide her cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” Beca says as she stares back at Chloe. “I’d like that.” 

_fin._

  



End file.
